Lotus

The sudden snowstorm caught everyone off guard. People scattered in all directions, frantically trying to reach their homes and shield themselves from the relentless snowfall.

Many were bewildered by the early onset of winter—autumn had only just begun, and they hadn't even celebrated the Mid-Autumn Festival. Yet, those who had witnessed what they believed to be Yin Lian's grandmaster manipulating nature knew that this was a demonstration of power. To everyone else, it was nothing more than an inexplicable anomaly.

One of the unsuspecting was a young woman, preoccupied with her own crisis.

"Ruoyan Jiejie, we've cleared the space, locked all the windows and doors, and accounted for everyone," the younger woman reported.

"That's good. We weren't prepared for this storm," Qiu Ruoyan replied.

"But… there's a problem."

"What problem?"

"Just follow me."

The two women walked together, the younger leading Qiu Ruoyan toward the door.

As soon as the door was opened, a gust of wind sent snow rushing into the hall, covering everything from the gambling tables to the freshly cleaned floors.

"Liu Suiyin! Why did you open the door? Now there's snow everywhere!" Ruoyan scolded.

"It's because of that," Suiyin said, pointing to a figure collapsed in the snow.

Ruoyan's eyes widened as she rushed outside. The snow around him was stained dark with blood, seeping into the white like ink on silk.

Kneeling beside him, she quickly checked for signs of life. She pressed her fingers to his wrist, searching for a faint pulse beneath his chilled skin. Relief flooded her when she found it. He was still breathing, though faintly. As she looked closer, recognition struck her—it was Chen Xiao, a man who frequently visited Qian Fu Hall. His face was pale, his lips tinged blue.

The snowfall thickened as Ruoyan struggled to lift his injured body. If she didn't act quickly, he would die—whether from blood loss or the cold.

"Suiyin! Help me move him inside!" she called.

Suiyin hesitated only a second before moving to the two figures and bending down to help. The two women battled against the weight of the unconscious man and the unforgiving cold, but with determination, they managed to carry Chen Xiao into one of the rooms.

Ruoyan worked swiftly, lighting the brazier, pressing bandages to his wounds, and applying medicine, all while her hands warmed his frozen skin. She was treating his wounds and warming his body. After some time, color returned to his face, and his breathing stabilized.

The storm outside waned, and the snow no longer battered the walls, but Ruoyan barely noticed. Her gaze remained fixed on him, waiting—hoping.

Then, a flicker.

Chen Xiao stirred, his eyes fluttering open. He looked disoriented at first, trying to make sense of his surroundings, but when his gaze landed on Ruoyan, his tense muscles relaxed. Then, as the pain registered, he let out a quiet grunt.

"Are you alright, Master Chen?" Ruoyan asked, helping him sit up.

"I am now," Chen Xiao murmured, glancing around. The room smelled of medicine and blood. His eyes flickered to the white strips around his body; he was bandaged. "I suppose I owe you for this."

"It was no trouble, Master Chen."

He let out a soft exhale, almost like a laugh. "You always say that."

Ruoyan didn't respond, focusing instead on the bowl of warm water. She wrung out a cloth and gently dabbed at the dried blood on his forehead. Chen Xiao's gaze lingered on her, his expression neutral. He didn't say anything.

"I'll have to repay you for this—saving me again."

"There's no need."

"I don't like leaving debts unpaid." He paused, a hint of something in his tone. "Please, tell me whenever you need my help."

"I thought we were friends?" she said teasingly.

"We are. That's exactly why, I don't like owing friends."

"But— Okay," she said, feeling a bit of warmth at his words.

Then, almost casually, he asked, "Ruoyan, have you ever fallen in love?"

Her fingers faltered for just a moment, but she quickly resumed her task. "What brought this on?"

He sighed, rolling his head against the pillow. "Just a question."

Ruoyan raised an eyebrow. "Could it be the courtesan you were chasing after today?"

His eyes snapped to hers, a flash of surprise in them. "Word spreads fast."

"You know how people love gossip," she replied, keeping her tone light.

"It was a stunt," he muttered, his forehead creasing.

She hummed, pretending indifference. "Was it?"

"Of course. You think I'd—" He exhaled sharply. "It hasn't even been a day."

Ruoyan dipped the cloth back into the water, quietly studying him. She wouldn't say it, but she'd noticed the way his expression softened, just for a second, when he talked about the girl. A curiosity she hadn't seen in a while, one he hadn't even recognized in himself.

"You know I've only ever loved one woman," he said softly.

Ruoyan stilled, her grip tightening around the cloth.

"I know," she said her voice low. "She must have been incredible."

"She was."

A thick silence stretched between them. Ruoyan busied herself with the bandages, but the words unsaid hung in the air. Then, abruptly, he shifted, wincing slightly.

"What about this new girl? She's a courtesan, right?" Ruoyan said trying to break the awkward silence

"That has nothing to do with it." Chen Xiao said his tone neutral. "It's just a coincidence that both of them are courtesans. Besides, they're very different. Xia Qingluo was graceful, elegant, and reserved, while Miss Shen is... well, a bit clumsy, naïve, and outgoing."

"Then why the big display?"

"For the same reason I come here. It's suffocating, having every move I make watched. I feel like a prisoner. The only way to ease their suspicions is by pulling stunts like that."

"So it was just a stunt?"

"Yes. It's too early to think about marriage—I barely know the woman."

"That's good," Ruoyan murmured, her voice soft.

"What did you say?" His eyes narrowed slightly.

"Nothing." She quickly looked down at the cloth in her hands, keeping herself busy.

"…Though I'll admit, she is an interesting character. I've never met anyone like her...Speaking of which, Ruoyan, have you ever visited the Yin Lian Pavilion?"

"No, I haven't."

"I wonder who has?"

"For that, maybe you should ask your half-sister."

"What would she know?"

"I don't know. She's a frequent visitor at the Yin Yue Tea House. Her infatuation with the storyteller there is beyond me."

"What does that have to do with the Yin Lian Pavilion?" Chen Xiao asked, confused.

"Don't you know the stories they tell there?" Ruoyan raised an eyebrow.

"No, I'm not talking about Yin Lian, the assassination organization. I mean the courtesan house. They're not the same."

"Hmph… And how sure are you?" she teased, though her tone was more playful than she meant.

"…Anyway, thanks for saving my life," Chen Xiao said, shifting his weight as if already halfway out the door. "But I should go. They must be looking for me… Who am I kidding? They probably aren't. Still, I need to leave."

Ruoyan frowned. "But what about your wounds?"

"I'll be fine." He rolled his shoulder, wincing slightly but forcing a smirk as if to convince them both. "The snowstorm has passed, and I feel much better. Thanks again, Ruoyan."

"But—"

"Really, I'll be alright." His voice was gentle but firm, cutting off whatever argument she might've mustered. He even smiled, a small, fleeting thing, before turning toward the door.

Ruoyan said nothing. What could she say? She wanted to stop him, to make him stay, but the words tangled in her throat. In the end, all she could do was swallow the lump rising in her chest and murmur, "Alright. Take care of yourself."

His gaze softened—just for a moment—before he stepped out into the cold.

Ruoyan watched his retreating figure, her hands clenched into fists at her sides. He hadn't asked. Not about the auction, not about Qian Fu Hall's fate, not about her. She had hoped, foolishly, that she meant enough for him to fight. That he would at least turn back, just once, and ask about the sword hanging over her head.

But of course, Chen Xiao had always been haunted by his own ghosts, too consumed by the past to see the people still reaching for him in the present.

She exhaled, her breath curling into the frigid air. Beyond the threshold, the world stretched out in quiet stillness, the moon casting its cold light over the freshly fallen snow.

By this time three days later, everything could change. The auction would decide their fates—hers, the staff's, and the very future of Qian Fu Hall. If Mo Yan's promise was an empty one, then Ruoyan could only pray that she would survive what came next.